We create ourselves
Pen on paper
With little scribbles
Of Ink and lead
Wordless volumes
That endless pages
Can not contain

We lose ourselves
Time after time
In mindless journeys
Through overgrown forests
Un-trodden roads
That endless steps
Can not penetrate

We find ourselves
Chained to stones
With eagle-torn livers
The product of our spirit
Worn by questions
That endless answers
Can not explain


We destroy ourselves
Word by word
With trembling roars
Shrinking lions to mice
Lifeless corpses
That end all lives
We can not remain

We are created
Wound after wound
By the thick black blood
Seeping from our hearts
Empty souls
In endless parchment
Bound by that
Which we create.